Resident Evil: Descension
by Nate Aledor
Summary: A plane crashes and the stranded survivors must confront the horrors in the jungle. Original characters, takes place modern day. Please Read and Review! Constructive criticism welcome!
1. Chapter 1

_Resident Evil is the property of Capcom and this story is not intended for sale. I only take ownership of the original characters and situations._

_Enjoy!_

1

James Carter sighed loudly, staring at his watch in between whispered curses as he paced in the humid airport terminal. There were few windows and the space seemed well-used and every-so-often he'd look around the narrow waiting area at the others gathered around, occasionally nodding as their mutual wait time increased.

He took a step back and rested his weight against the rough concrete wall behind him and slid his hands into the pockets of his khaki coloured cargo pants while his eyes lost focus, staring at the slowly rotating ceiling fan that did little to quell the stifling heat.

'When is the damn plane going to start boarding?' He mused silently.

Brazil had been a great trip and after almost a month of backpacking, he was ready to go home. Somewhere along the way he had ended up just too far from any main vein out of the country and after a bumpy bus ride, arrived at a private air strip. The tickets were cheap and he could get to Mexico by the following day to connect with his next flight.

'If the damn plane would start boarding.'

There were over a dozen others gathered around and all looked like as much of a tourist as he did. Some had backpacks or carry-alls and others stuck close to small piles of stacked suitcases. James looked over to his beat up hiking pack and shrugged, pushing the thought aside.

A man around James' age, maybe twenty-five or six had started up a conversation with a woman as she adjusted the short ponytail that wrestled her wavy blond hair and she laughed holding a palm up to his face. "Look Will. You're nice n' all... but no thanks."

James chuckled softly as he watched Will turn slowly with a shrug and tucking his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans defeated. The woman made brief eye contact with him and James shook his head lightly, a faint grin tugging at his cheek.

The dusty double doors that led to the tarmac opened to James' right and a man in his forties stepped inside dressed in a wrinkled button-up shirt and slacks. He adjusted the sunglasses that sat on his tanned nose and lazily waved everyone outside to the plane without a word.

The gathered passengers sprang to life and snagged their assorted belongings, escorted out into the heat of the day and over to the boarding stairs up to the plane.

James followed suit and slid his own sunglasses from their perch in his short dark hair down to shield his eyes from the almost overwhelming light that washed over him as he approached the staircase with his pack slung over his shoulder.

The plane looked small and James figured the capacity to be around thirty, to forty passengers, probably the smallest jetliner he'd seen. The thought made him uneasy as he struggled to shake the feeling of claustrophobia from spending almost three hours already in the equally small waiting area.

'I wonder if they've ever even had forty passengers at a time?'

He shook his head and stepped inside, met once again by dank humidity and squeezed his way down the isle to a pair of seats on the right side of the cabin. The overhead compartment was equally cramped and after several tries, James was able to force his bag inside then slumped down into the window seat that looked out over the wing of the plane.

'Hopefully there won't be any gremlins tapping on the glass.'

When the man in the wrinkled uniform was convinced that everyone was settled he shut the boarding hatch and turned to the door leading to the cockpit. With a twist of the latch and a firm push he made his way inside and greeted the pilot before closing the door behind him.

A deep voice came over the scratchy loudspeaker instructing everyone to fasten safety belts with a heavy, Portuguese accent, and within minutes the plane started to move along the runway. Not long after that they were in the air and James stole a glance out the window before resting his head back and dozing off.

x

He awoke rudely and was immediately surrounded by chaos as the other passengers were screaming and shouting over each other. He was disoriented, looking around frantically and the plane bucked violently sending something behind him in the plane crashing to the isle.

A mask hung from a thin clear tube in front of him and without so much as a thought, he reached out and took hold of it, stretching the elastic around the back of his head.

James stole a glance out the window and his stomach heaved as he saw the lush green of the Earth race up to catch them with unforgiving hands and in that instant he knew the plane was going down.

He tried to steady his nerves as panic took hold and lowered his head to his knees, tears welling in the corners of his shielded eyes.

The seconds felt like an eternity and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the screams away and convince himself that it was nothing more than a horrible dream. More and more the cacophony around him invaded his senses and he muttered silent prayers.

The noise rose to crescendo and the plane dipped again suddenly. A new level of terror washed over him as the jungle below rapped loudly against the metal fuselage of the plane in a frenzied beat. There was a sudden series of crashes and he felt small pieces of glass rain over him and he leaned away, his arms over his face as the roar of the outside world forced its way in.

Metal screeched and tore and the cabin dipped to one side sending him forcefully against the wall on his right, knocking the wind out of him and sending his glasses skittering over the carpeted floor beneath his seat. The cabin spun again and the horrible sound of metal ripping apart rattled through his body as his seatbelt pulled on him against gravity and forced a echoed grunt through the ventilation mask.

James forced his eyes open and watched in horror as the world hung upside down, some of the passengers tumbling like dolls.

He closed his eyes once more and the deafening roar of the jungle started to fade, allowing the screams to be heard with clarity. The cabin spun again and James was sent crashing back against the bulkhead, jarring his shoulder and coaxing a muffled grunt. He could feel the plane slowing, could feel the wet jungle heat reach its way in.

Expecting a final crash at any moment, the man's heart raced – but that final crash never came.

When he was certain that the plane had come to a stop he opened his eyes once again and took a steadying breath through the mask over his nose and mouth. The cabin filled with sobs as some hadn't been as lucky as him, suffering little more than scratches and bruises.

Beams of sunlight pierced through the canopy beyond the windows now above him, silhouetting a still form tethered to their seat with limp arms dangling loosely. Something warm and wet slapped against James' cheek and he wiped at it, cringing at the crimson smear on his palm. His stomach heaved and he scrambled at the release of his seatbelt and tore the mask away from his face. He shot a glance a moment later through the broken window now below him.

The feeling of sickness was suddenly replaced by a sense of calm as his mind processed what he saw through the narrow portal.

'We're not touching the ground.'

The realization hit him suddenly that they were suspended between the trees and James carefully stood as his body ached in protest. The plane shuddered beneath his feet and a woman spoke up over the crowd, softly breaking the tension. "We have to get out."

James absentmindedly nodded and started to carefully clamber over the seats to the hatch only two rows away. Two men knelt around the cabin door struggling to force the release.

The older of the two dark-skinned men met the James' worried gaze and motioned to the hatch. "I can't seem to get it."

James nodded and knelt next to the boy who was with him and took hold of the access way's release lever, trying to brace himself against a bulkhead. Slowly it moved as he pressed his weight against it and the hatch gave way, swinging wildly below them with a short screech.

He sighed. "We need to find a way to get down."

The older man nodded and stood and called out over the stuffy cabin. "Listen, do we got any rope... or anything we can tie together to make a rope?"

James looked up and noted that there were around ten others who began to rummage through the remnants of the plane and the blond from the airport suddenly piped up. "I stowed my climbing gear in the overhead. I can't reach it." Will had already started helping her and James turned his attention back to the hatch.

He was starting to sweat and with a shrug, stood. "We're gonna need water as well. Food maybe."

A gruff voice edged over the whispers of the others and a stern-looking man around fifty crept up to where James and the others sat. "There's got to be a radio we can use as well."

James gave him a quick nod and turned to a woman near the galley who was holding a towel to a younger man's forehead and he cleared his throat softly. "Why don't you see what we have back there that we can use. Fill up a backpack if you can." The woman bobbed her head slowly and carefully navigated into the food prep area while the younger man passed her an empty satchel, keeping the compress held in place.

He turned back to the stern-looking older man and watched as he moved slowly to the front of the plane, stopping only to calm his wife with a steadying hand. He reached slowly for the knob to the cockpit and gave it a forceful twist.

The door opened inward and a body fell into view, broken and bleeding. Screams once again filled the narrow space and the dark-skinned man urged the crowd to be calm.

Unshaken the stern-looking man peered past the corpse and shook his head. "It's no good. There's nothing left in there."

Another of the passengers; a man in shorts and a t-shirt shot back at him. "What do you mean there's nothing left?"

The stern man shrugged. "I mean that the radio's probably scattered over the jungle right now, along with the other pilot."

Silence filled the cabin and James fought back the urge to throw up. He motioned to the rock climber with a light, uneasy wave. "How's that rope coming?"

She was standing on Will's shoulders and fumbling with the overhead. Suddenly it opened and her bag as well as a couple others' tumbled out. Slowly she climbed down and retrieved it, digging through it a moment later and tossing a tightly wound bundle at James. "There."

He unbound it and tied off one end to a support strut securely, testing the strength with a couple of short tugs. The woman returned from the galley and brought the satchel over with a shrug. "There wasn't much..."

James nodded and took the bag, tying the other end of the rope to the handle and slowly lowered it to the ground below. The blond approached him slowly and knelt, testing the rope herself before nodding silently as she looked to the ground below. "We'll need gloves or something to cover our hands or we'll rip 'em up pretty bad."

James nodded and spoke to the cabin after clearing his throat softly. "Find something to wrap your hands with... gloves, a t-shirt... something." He looked down at the kid next to him, already winding a ripped shirt around his palms and pointed to the rope, reassuring the dark-skinned man with a nod. He patted his son on the shoulder and slowly the boy inched to the edge of the hatch.

The plane shook again and he almost lost his footing. James looked up at the rest and beckoned them to slowly get closer. His voice was almost a whisper. "We have to go."

The boy had already started to descend and the woman and her injured son crept up next. The rock climber followed as well, then the stern man and his wife. The man in shorts went down the rope shortly after and in the end all that remained were James, the dark-skinned man and Will.

James removed the button up shirt that hung loosely over his t-shirted frame and tore against the seam and wrapped his hands with the strips of fabric. The dark-skinned man had done the same and gave him a quick nod before inching forward to the rope and taking hold of it with trembling hands. After a deep breath he lowered himself through the hatch and disappeared from view.

Will was still covering his hands and after James made sure that the dark-skinned man had nearly reached the ground he crept into position and took hold of the rope. The plane shuddered again as he let it take all his weight and he forced himself to descend. Once he was a comfortable height from the ground he loosened his grip and slid the rest of the way, the fabric covering his hands almost hot to the touch.

His knees bent when he touched the ground and he backed off with shaky legs as he watched the hatch for Will to appear.

The other man came into view and started to lower himself, the rope below him swaying as the plane shook once more.

James' heart pounded in his chest and there was a sudden crack in the branches around the fuselage. Almost in slow motion the weight of the plane rushed violently downward, making the rope go slack and sending Will falling to the ground below. The gathered onlookers screamed and James tried to look away but felt frozen, staring at Will's body hitting the jungle floor, crushed a second later by the falling wreckage of the plane with a thundering clatter and a cloud of dirt and debris.

James wove through the trees and took a seat on a rock not far from where the others had gathered and dropped his head to his hands. He felt sick, lost and alone and even though they had survived a plane crash it did little to change the fact that they were lost in the jungle. Sunlight barely pierced through the many layers above, casting a dim light over the area.

Movement in his field of vision caused him to look up and the woman with the injured son greeted him. She reached out and held a bottle of water for the younger man and with a faint smile he took hold of it. "Thanks," He said, his voice sounding defeated.

She ran a hand through her shoulder length dark hair and nodded back. "What's your name?"

The younger man struggled for the words a moment, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid and finally answered. "James. James Carter"

The woman nodded and pointed over to the younger man with a compress held to his brow. "That's my son Josh. We were going... " She paused and shook her head briefly. "Well, my name's Kelly."

The stern-looking man stood from where he sat with his wife and addressed the group, his tone as stern as his appearance. "We need to stay put. When there isn't word from our flight a search and rescue team will be sent for us."

The man in shorts stood and pointed above, addressing the older man. "We can't even see the sky! How do you think they're gonna see us down here?"

The argument was suddenly pierced by a loud, gurgled howl and the group fell silent. The blond interjected quietly. "What the fuck was that?"

Before anyone could answer the howl pierced through the dank jungle and this time it was obvious that it was much closer.

Everyone started shuffling nervously, looking around as the tension increased. The stern-looking man countered what everyone was thinking. "We can't leave. This is where the rescue team will be looking for us."

A putrid stench filled the air and James covered his mouth with his bare arm. "What is that?"

Something crashed in the underbrush and the group froze, all turning toward the sound and staring through the dense surroundings for any sign of movement but there was none.

The dark-skinned man had his arm wrapped protectively around his son. "I don't wanna be here when whatever that thing was, shows up.

The man in shorts seemed eerily calm when he spoke. "He's right... whatever it is it's circling us."

There was another crash on the other side of the group and again everyone spun to face the new noise. Kelly started to inch back from the ominous sound and suddenly cried out as another howl rumbled through the group. James turned quickly and saw as something was dragging her off, her screams reverberating through the panicking crowd.

James rushed forward but before he could reach her, she disappeared from view and the crashing subsided. Josh screamed out to her and tried to run after, met by the forceful grip of the older dark-skinned man. "Don't be stupid." Josh pleaded and James nodded to the younger man. "A few of us should go after her."

The blond nodded and approached the group and the man in shorts quipped spitefully. "Yeah, that's smart. Chase the thing."

James eased Josh from the dark-skinned man's grip and pressed forward into the jungle, tightly gripping the water bottle and with the younger man and the rock-climber close behind. Josh took off ahead of the other two at a sprint and James swore as the woman rushed past to catch up to him, before dashing off in pursuit.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Kirsten Marshall panted heavily as the trio ran through the jungle, crashing loudly through the narrow spaces between the hulking trees. She chided herself silently, not thinking to take her backpack along with her as they chased the unseen horror ahead of them.

James called from behind, his voice coming through ragged gasps. "Do you still hear it?"

Kirsten shook her head as she pumped her arms and careful not to trip on roots that curled along the jungle floor. "No," She yelled back, over her shoulder, struggling to keep up with the young man. She could make him out through the trees and he hooked to the left, Kirsten following suit.

Suddenly her footing gave way and with a yelp, she slid downward. She scrambled at the steep hillside, her fingers digging through mud and loose ground cover, but her speed only quickened. She rolled onto her back to best guide her fall and a rush of heat and fresh air assaulted her violently. The bright sun left her blinded and the mudslide dumped her into mid air.

She had just a moment of clear vision, but it was enough to see the water below rushing up to catch her and before she could even scream, she plunged into the murky depths.

x

James' pace slowed and he rested a hand on a nearby tree trunk. "Hold up!"

After a minute without any response from the other two, he swore again and pushed himself to a run, once more.

"Josh?" He yelled questioningly, "Kirsten?"

His heart pounded furiously in his chest and a glimpse of movement gave him a burst of speed. "Josh!"

The younger man slowed down and turned to face him, wiping sweat from his face and neck. "Where's Kirsten?"

James looked around, turning in a slow circle before meeting the young man's gaze once more. "Wasn't she right behind you?"

He shook his head.

"We have to find her." James stated, still breathing hard from the run.

Josh chimed in, panic obvious in his voice. "We're giving up? That's my mom out there!"

"I know you want to find her... and I do too..." His thought trailed off and he sighed. "Kirsten can't be far. We have to find her first, then we'll all go after your mom together."

James rested a hand on Josh's shoulder. "We'll find her." His gaze drifted off for a moment and he quietly signaled to follow as something had caught his eye.

Through the trees, only twenty yards or so was what appeared to be a village. It was tucked almost invisibly into the jungle and overgrown with vines, but the structures were definitely man-made.

They jogged lightly and emerged into the village square, looking around for any sign of its inhabitants. Tools and crude weapons were scattered about and a fire pit in the centre of the village showed no sign of recent use. A series of small log buildings surrounded them, illuminated by the sunlight that could breach the hole in the canopy above them.

James ran a hand through his short hair and scanned the dark openings to each of the cabins. "Let's look around. If either of them were hurt and made it here, we might get lucky."

Josh smiled back hopefully and James walked off to the opposite end of the village.

The young man turned to the building on his right and stepped into the gloom, suddenly aware of the fetid smell that assaulted his senses. It was sickly sweet, like rotting fruit and the more he thought about it, the more nauseous he became.

His eyes adjusted to the dark interior and as he looked over the modest decor he was convinced that whomever had lived there, had left in a hurry. There were tangled hammocks along one wall, having come undone from their perch on the supporting pillars... a small table strewn with bowls of a fowl smelling substance which attracted a cloud of flies that buzzed noisily... and on the floor was what looked to be an antique revolver.

He smiled in the dank cabin and knelt down, scooping up the weapon and looked it over managing to open the spool and noted that there were still three bullets loaded that hadn't been fired. The other three rounds were spent, their empty casings hanging in the spool and he mused with teenage enthusiasm. "Safe to say you still work..."

Sudden rustling in the darkened corner of the cabin snapped Josh to attention, his shaky hands still clutching the revolver. His eyes strained to see into the shadows and finally he was able to make out the source of the horrible smell. A body lay slumped against a wall and though he couldn't make out much detail, he knew she didn't want to.

The figure moved – slight at first, but soon the form had slumped forward onto its stomach and began to slowly crawl toward him.  
Josh's mind was torn in two directions; believing this to be wrong and impossible, but another part thinking it was someone who needed help. He approached the still obscured form cautiously and with a faint, quivering voice spoke to him. "Are... are you all right? Can you get up?"

The moving form didn't answer and Josh was filled with a sense of unease. The figure crept forward slowly, pulling itself along with its arms and it raised its head – suddenly illuminated by a shaft of sunlight through a gap in the cabin's wall logs. Josh gasped at the sight and fell backward, stumbling and landing with a thud. The man's face was all but rotted away; teeth exposed and cloudy eyes sunken deeply into its skull-like face. It parted its teeth and let out a raspy moan as it reached for his leg with a shriveled, claw-like hand.

Josh shuffled back and his heart pounded as he forced down the bile that rose in his throat. The thing was pressing forward, inching closer and as his back came into contact with something that blocked his retreat, Josh acted without thinking, pointing the old revolver and squeezing the heavy trigger.

_Click._

He panicked and pulled back on the trigger again and again until finally a bullet was moved in front of the hammer. The echoing blast from the gun startled him and the weapon jumped in his hand as it fired – the bullet ripping into the shuffling form before him and tearing the right half of its face away. Red-black goo sprayed against the wall behind it and the form slumped over, unmoving.

Josh was breathing hard and with each breath he tried to convince himself that what he was looking at wasn't there. It couldn't be. Horrified, he looked at the gun in his hand and let it fall to the floor between his legs as tears welled up in his eyes.

Shaking, Josh turned and forced himself to his feet and something grabbed him by the shoulder. Josh pushed his elbow back hard, making contact with the form now behind him. James jumped back from the blow, startled and instantly releasing his grip. The young man had in that moment spun, scooped up the revolver and clutched it tightly with both hands. Between sobs he finally saw it was James standing there – and not another of those _things._

"Easy." James soothed, his hands up as he slowly approached him and once he was close enough, casually he used his left hand to push the gun away from being pointed at him and Josh slumped forward into James' shoulder. His sobs started to subside and after a few moments, he withdrew and wiped his face with the back of his arm.

"Jesus," James muttered. He was staring transfixed on the slumped form with most of its head reduced to dark, sticky goo. Josh looked over as well and once he saw it, doubled over and heaved.

The older man ushered them both outside and once Josh had calmed himself down, James spoke quietly. "What happened?"

The young man shook his head, wiping his eyes with the palm of his free hand and looked down at the weapon. "I don't... I don't know." He tried to put his feeling into words, but couldn't. He had no way to describe the _thing_ that had come at him – human and somehow not, without it sounding ridiculous. "It... just scared me. That's all."

James nodded and finally shrugged. "Well... at least it was already dead. For a long time, from the look of it." He tried to sound reassuring, but something about his gaze showed his concern.

Josh forced a chuckle and shook his head, holding back all the things he thought he saw and left it at that and slipped the gun into his belt. "I'm fine. I'll be ok."

James flashed a grin and held up a leather bound book in his hands. "Found this. Looks like some kind of journal, but it's not in English."

Josh's curiosity peaked and he took it out of his hand and leafed through it, finally closing it. "It looks like Spanish," He said then sighed. "I can't read it either, though."

Josh continued turning the pages of the book until finding a two-page, hand drawn map. "But, maybe this can help us... y'know, get out of here."

The two of them looked the map over and Josh nodded, tracing a finger over what he guessed was a designated path from the small village and to the North. "It looks like there's a town up here."

James sighed in relief. "We should go back and get the others. They might be able to help us find Kirsten and that town could have a telephone, or a radio... or maybe they can help us find your mom."

Josh nodded and closed the book, sliding it into his back pocket, before once again pulling the gun out. "All right. You should probably carry this."

x

Light started to fade and by the time the duo made it back to the crash site, night was nearly upon them. The remaining survivors had built a fire and a couple of them were rummaging through the wreckage of the plane for any more supplies. The man in the shorts was the first to spot the two of them as they approached and he scoffed at them sarcastically. "Well, look who decided to finally come back. Oh and look... you guys are missing someone else. Fucking waste of time if you ask me."

Josh stalked over to him and without hesitation, wound up and struck him across the face with a balled fist. The group suddenly jumped up to attention and James rushed forward, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders while the dark-skinned father held the other man back. "Allan, calm down. He's just a kid and his mother is out there."

Allan wrenched free of the man's grip. "Calm down? Don't tell me what to do, Bradley. Mind your own business."

James cut in abruptly. "Kirsten is missing, probably hurt... but we found a map. Looks like there's a town a ways out, but close enough to make it there in a few hours." At that, the activity died down and everyone once again fell relatively silent.

Bradley's attention perked up. "A town?"

James nodded. "They might have a phone, or a radio. We can call for help." His tone was pleading.

Allan paced furiously, taking occasional glances at James. "No one lives out here. If they did, they would have come running when the plane went down. You had your chance to go off and try and find the boy's mom. Now it's our turn and we have things under control here." He motioned back to the stern-looking man, who came forward from the wreckage. "Gary used to be in the Army. He says we should wait and keep a fire burning."

James fought the frustration that was building up inside him. "We're in the jungle. Our best chance is to find the nearest town. We need to at least have shelter for the night. We can't stay outdoors."

Gary walked over and addressed James directly, pulling him aside. "You said you found a map?"

James nodded and waved to Josh to join them and show the journal they had found. "It looks like it's in Spanish though, but the map is in there too."

Gary took the worn out book and leafed through it, nodding occasionally. "Portuguese." He said flatly, before finding the map. "He's right. Looks like there's a town," He said, speaking loud enough for the group to hear. "As much as staying near the plane is good, finding that town is a better course of action. Now, I don't know what it says here, but from the arrangement, it almost looks like an air field, or a military complex."

A large droplet of water struck the page and the huddled men all looked up at the same time. More drops fell and the pace increased.

"Shit," James muttered.

Gary closed the book and rushed over to his wife to fill her in as the rain intensified, quickly becoming a downpour. Within moments the camp was soaked and the fire sizzled with each drop, gradually dying down. The sky was almost black through the gaps in the treetops and soon after, the rain was torrential.

James shot a look to Allan then spoke up to address the group. "There's a village nearby. We can head there and get out of this storm."

Bradley fetched his son, while the others each grabbed bags that they had scavenged supplies with and as a unit, they followed James and Josh as they led the way out into the jungle and away from the site of the plane crash.


	3. Chapter 3

_For your reading pleasure, here's the next instalment! Let me know what you think!_

3

Kirsten blinked a few times and shivered, looking around the dark space that surrounded her. She was in a cave, not far from the mouth and with a grunt, pushed herself up from the uneven, rocky ground. Her body ached and she tried to stretch, noting that it felt like she had a number of bruises.

It took a moment for her to clear her head and on wobbly legs she cautiously moved toward the cave mouth and looked out, hearing a rolling thunder that seemed somehow familiar. Her eyes struggled to adjust and with a shaky stride, Kirsten stepped outside and was met immediately with the heavy rain.

No light shone from around her and in the dark of night, she could barely make out any details. She could faintly see the river ahead of her, but the cloudy night sky left her in almost total blackout.

She groaned in confusion.

Brief flashes came through her haze. Slipping down a hill. Falling. Awkwardly hitting the water at the bottom.

She stepped back behind her, getting out of the rain and back into the protection of the cavern. The mouth was just tall enough for her to get inside without hitting her head.

She remembered more. Crawling from the water exhausted and had slowly scrambled forward along the rocks to shelter. Then nothing. Darkness.

Kirsten sighed, uncertain of her lost time and called out into the darkness. "Hello?"

The only response was the rain.

"Is anyone out there?"

She waited anxiously for an answer, when a sickening howl echoed out from the inky depths of the cave over her shoulder and caused her knees to feel weak. The realization dawned on her in an instant, that the beast from the crash site was in there with her.

In spite of the chill from her wet clothes, she broke out in a sweat and held her breath. She strained to listen for any signs of movement, but all she could make out was the deep pounding of her heart in her chest.

She tried to slowly move out of the cave, as quiet as she could, trembling lightly.

A rock under her boot slid and the sound reverberated around her in a clatter. Somewhere in the cavern, there was an abrupt growl, sounding much closer than before.

Kirsten panicked, running out into the rain and hooked to the right. Her footing was uneven and more than once she came crashing down into the water.

Behind her the beast howled, but she didn't dare look back; instead pressing forward. She wanted to scream, panting hard. She could tell it was close, but the sound of the rain around her was disorienting.

Lightning flashed and in that instant, Kirsten spotted something up ahead in the water. Thunder rumbled through the air and there was another flash, confirming what she'd seen.

A boat!

It looked hung up on something, but it was definitely a boat. Three levels tall and bobbing in the murky river, she could spot the small ladder at the back.

Her foot slipped on the wet groundcover and her momentum pulled her over to the left and into the water, head first with a heavy splash. With a gasp, Kirsten breached the surface then heard the beast howl again. A new splash alerted her to something in the water with her and she kicked for her life, watching the boat draw near.

The ladder rung came within reach and Kirsten thrust an arm forward, pulling as hard as she could to free herself from the watery prison. She strained, hand over hand and brought her leg up then lunged upward as the beast broke the river surface behind her.

She landed hard on the deck and rolled onto her back, scrambling away as another flash of lightning illuminated the terror that stalked her. In that moment of light, she could make out the creatures claws as they gripped the edge of the boat, green and scaled like a reptile. She caught the momentary glimpse of beady yellow eyes, set into a crocodilian face full of teeth.

Her boots squeaked along the deck as she pushed herself away from the vicious jaws and the inhuman eyes, and when she finally hit a spot where she gained traction, she shot up and let out a yelp as the beast pulled itself toward her.

Her ankles came into contact with a metal staircase and Kirsten toppled, landing hard on one of the steps, but quickly scrambled up and spun. Her boots clattered on the staircase and just behind her, she heard a heavy thump as the creature landed on the deck with a growl.

Her breathing was ragged as she ascended, tripping on the top landing. She scurried toward a hatch and opened the metal door, thankful that it gave easily and slid inside, slamming it behind her and wrenching the locking bolt. The beast slammed its heavy fists against the door and with a roar of defeat, went silent.

Tears streamed down Kirsten's cheeks as she stared at he hatch, now lost in total darkness and nearly overcome by a sickening smell.

She didn't want to breathe with the risk of the creature hearing her and so she crept silently backward until her hip collided with a table. Her hands went out behind her to steady herself and a lightweight box fell to the floor. It rattled as if it was full of small candies.

Or matches!

Immediately, Kirsten ducked down, feeling around and when she was sure that she found the box again, she held it in front of her and fumbled to open it. Her shaking hands held it upside down and a rain of timber mocked the rain outside as the wooden matches scattered below her. She swore faintly and knelt again, finding a handful of the matches and with one held tightly, she struck it against the side of the box and the room was suddenly cast in a wash of flickering, amber light.

It looked like a common area or lounge, with couches that lined the walls on two sides and tables down the middle. The place was a mess, with papers scattered everywhere. To her right was another door, but slumped in front of it was the body of a man, long since dead. His gnarled hand clutched a flare gun.

The match flame touched her finger and she swore again, the darkness only momentary as she readied a new match and lit it. On a nearby table was a lantern and with a smile she approached it, stepping cautiously over the dead man's outstretched legs.

Something brushed against her boot and as she took hold of the lantern to light it, she turned in just enough time to see the dead man move. It moaned hoarsely and Kirsten gasped, dropping the rest of the matches.

The lantern cast an ominous glow over the form as it moved, slowly scrambling forward toward her. Kirsten backed off, but tripped and with an awkward thud, landed on the floor, the lantern falling from her grip. She forced herself back and the creature reached out for her, its scabby fingers brushing the leather of her boot.

"No!" She cried, kicking fiercely at the creature's face as it moaned hungrily, inching ever closer and gnashing its teeth. It looked on her with dead eyes and with another kick she felt her boot connect with its jaw. There was sickening crunch as the bone cracked.

There was no more room to back up, a heavy box blocked Kirsten's retreat and she sobbed as the crawling horror encroached on her. The flare gun clattered to the ground as the abomination tried to claw at her legs for purchase and she let out a final kick in desperation. Her heel hit hard, the wet crunch of the creature's skull echoing in the room and the dead man slumped over onto her legs.

Kirsten cried out in sheer horror and kicked the oozing mess off of her, then tucked her knees up to her chest as she looked on it by the light of the lantern.

Her mind tried to put to words what she saw, but the rationalization was too absurd to consider. She thought about the creature outside, then the one inside and shook her head. Monsters weren't supposed to be real. Her brain went over it and in the end she couldn't deny what she witnessed. The man had been dead and there was no way to argue that, and if that was true, then what she just fought off was a zombie.

A distant clang rang out from the bowels of the boat and it snapped Kirsten from her thoughts. Terrified, she reached out and took the flare gun in her trembling hand and checked to see that it was loaded. She made one last sniffle and snatched the lantern, then forced herself to her feet.

Before she had felt scared, but now she felt angry. A seething anger had welled up in her when her understanding of the world had been questioned and she'd be damned if she'd let monsters get her.

Not now, not ever.

With a renewed determination, she approached the door that the zombie had been blocking before and with the flare gun tucked in the back of her pants, tried the release latch, holding her breath as she wrenched it open a crack. She paused, listening and when she was convinced it was clear, opened the hatch all the way and backed off, pulling the gun back out and pointing it ahead of her.

The doorway opened into an adjoining corridor, with a staircase that led downward on the left and another door directly across from where she stood, marked 'Bridge'. She was about to try the door when another clattering of metal resounded from the interior of the boat, rising up from the stairwell.

Kirsten swallowed hard and held the lantern out, slowly creeping down the narrow stairwell and once she reached the first landing, carefully peered around the corner. The next landing down from her was marked with an arrow and a sign that read 'Crew Compartments', as well another hatch. When she was certain that nothing was waiting on the staircase below and around the next corner, she descended and quickly slipped through the open hatchway.

The hallway stretched past her on the right, running the length of the ship and each side was lined with doors. She assumed they were the sleeping quarters and from the looks of it, there were twelve rooms, with the washroom directly across from where she was standing. To her left was a door with an inset window and as she looked through the glass, could make out what appeared to be the galley.

The metal deck plating under her feet was streaked with grime and the lantern did little to chase away her sense of unease as she walked forward. The first door on her right had the word 'Captain' stenciled crudely in black paint, and with a tentative effort, she tried the latch. The door creaked open and she moved inside, leaving the door open in case she needed a quick exit.

It was modestly decorated, with a bunk, a table and chair, and the limited wall space was taken up with shelves cluttered with books and various objects. In the corner was an old filing cabinet. Kirsten didn't know what she was looking for, but something deep down inside told her to look for anything useful.

She started with the filing cabinet, placing the lantern on the desk but an old lock held her back from making progress and the metal clanging in resistance. She shook her head and moved on, looking over the papers that littered the desk. Her eyes settled on an old log book and she scooped it up, quickly looking over her shoulder to ensure the coast was clear.

Kirsten flipped to the final entry.

_August 12,_

__

With the ship caught up on the fallen debris - and one of the Portuguese scientists missing - we appear to be stuck here for the time being. None of the other scientists are willing to talk about their research and honestly I think it was a mistake to agree to their charter. More than once now, strange noises have been coming from the jungle – ever since the earthquake a few days ago - and it's leaving me and Reynolds feeling like we're in over our heads. Then there's the fact that there haven't been any signs of wildlife. What's worse is that it sounds like the noises are getting closer. It almost sounds like a large animal.

_Who are these guys, anyway? I've never seen scientists armed before._

Kirsten frowned, then thought back for a moment. The only earthquake she remembered hearing about in the Amazon had been several years before. She flipped through the pages, looking for something more to go on but the rest seemed as normal as she could figure for a riverboat captain, with only the entry from the night before making reference to the sound in the jungle.

A rumbling erupted from the ship's insides and when it died down the electric lights hummed to life around her. At first she was startled by it, but instantly put it together that someone else was onboard. Someone alive and from the looks of things, who could get the boat up and working again.

She stepped back into the hallway as footsteps resounded from the staircase and clutched the flare gun tightly with both hands. "Hello?" She asked softly, trying not to move.

A man's voice called back, hints of an accent giving his voice a slight drawl. "I'm comin' up!"

He stepped into view slowly, well built with light brown hair and a few days of growth on his face, and dressed in cargo pants and black long-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows. He wore a beat up old vest, the pockets bulging with unknown contents and he smiled when he saw the woman brandishing the flare gun. "Now what you plannin' on doin' with that?"

Kirsten slowly lowered the weapon, grateful for living human contact and gave a faint sigh of relief. "There's something out there. And there was a... thing upstairs." Her exasperation came through in her voice as she spoke and her body movements were edgy.

The man looked up in a contemplating manner and slowly moved forward, once again making eye contact with her. "Who are you? I take it to mean this ain't your boat?"

She shook her head.

"KinCaid," The man offered, still grinning lightly. "Managed to get the power back up. Now just gotta try an' get her unhooked is all."

"I'm Kirsten," She replied, still unsure. "How did you get here?"

His smile seemed to diminish. "Well, ain't that the story. I'm here lookin' for somethin', but the boat I came in on left me behind. I followed the river as far as I could, then came across _this_ here lady."

Kirsten thought about recounting her story but in the end decided against it. Instead she simply stated "There are others as well," and that they needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

KinCaid nodded then shrugged. "Either way, we ain't goin' anywhere until the boat is set free. Looks like it's hung up pretty bad outside and I can't do it alone."

She weighed her options and finally nodded. She had no idea where she was in relation to the others and more to the fact they would have to work together to get the ship navigable again. "All right," She said, "let's get this done so we can get out of here."


	4. Chapter 4

_Here's the next chapter for your reading pleasure. Please Read and Review! _

_Enjoy!_

4

The warm night air mixed with the rain, leaving James' shoulders almost feeling dry, in spite of the heavy drops that hammered his body. He and Josh had led the others back to the camp making sure that everyone avoided the structure that hid the dead body. Not unexpectedly, there was little objection and the group fanned out to the other huts to get in out of the storm.

James was exhausted. He and Josh approached one of the huts on the far edge of the village, Josh piping up over the drum of the rain. "Do you think mom is ok? I mean, you don't think she's..." He trailed off.

James stopped and looked back at the younger man and tried to force a smile. "Let's not give up yet. We'll try again in the morning, but we both need sleep. And something to eat."

Josh nodded and rubbed his head gently, the wound had stopped bleeding some time back, but the area felt angry and bruised. Carefully he slid the bandage off of his head and tilted his neck back, letting the rain pelt him in the forehead and run down the sides of his face.

He groaned faintly and caught up to James, ducking out of the weather and into the dry interior of the hut. He slumped down onto the ground against a wall and flipped open the backpack he took from the crash site then pulled out a couple candy bars and a bag of chips.

He thought back to his little sister as he ate, staying back home with their dad, while Josh had gone with their mom. The separation had been a few years before, but him and his sister had been in the middle of a custody battle ever since.

James cut through his musing with a light hand rested on his shoulder. "You doing ok?" He was snacking too and took a sip of the canteen, then offered it.

Josh sighed, accepting the offering. "I wanted to go with mom, but Sam didn't. She wanted to stay with dad. I was just thinking, that _she_ could have been out here too if she'd come."

The older man stared off into nowhere then once again met the teenager's thoughtful gaze. "How old is your sister?" His tone was soft and he spoke calmly, trying to distract Josh from everything that was going on around them. As far as it seemed, it was working.

"She's nine." He answered with a half smile. "Ten in a couple months." Josh laughed as he spoke. "And she hates the outdoors. Not me. I love it. Dad used to take me camping when I was her age."

James listened quietly, occasionally nodding along and doing everything he could to keep his chewing a silent action.

"Do you have a little sister?" He asked, taking a small bite of the partially melted chocolate bar.

The older man shook his head. "Older brother. He... well, we don't speak much anymore." He opened his mouth to continue, when one of the other survivors called out. He turned to the doorway and stood up, his arm outstretched signaling Josh to stay put. "Stay here. I'll be back."

Josh nodded in response, swallowing the mouthful of chocolate and trying to see past James and outside in the hopes of discerning what was going on. The older man rushed out and over the rain, he could faintly hear people talking.

James spotted Allan and the others standing in the rain, watching the bushes for something. "What's up?" He asked.

Bradley pointed to the spot in the bushes. "Allan said someone came out and attacked him while he was doing his business. Said he got bit."

James looked between Bradley and Allan. "And this guy said he was bitten?"

The dark skinned man shook his head. "No. The man bit Allan. Took a chunk out of his arm. We got it wrapped up. Cleaned up as much as we can, but that guy is still out here."

The whole thing just felt off somehow. Almost as if James was in the middle of some kind of practical joke and he struggled to believe what he was being told. "Someone came out of the jungle and took a bite out of Allan?"

The other man just nodded, looking back to Allan nervously as he scanned the tree line. Allan had a pole in his hand and used it to prod at the plants, trying to spot his attacker. "Come out now so we can talk."

The rain started to die down and the group almost a whole looked upward at the parting clouds. Stars and the moon shown brightly and James shook his hands off to try and dry them. He couldn't shake the feeling though, that this was just the eye of the storm.

He looked back to the bushes with just enough time to see a blur of movement lunge out and grab Gary. It looked like a person, but James couldn't quite make out who it was or what they looked like as they were dipped in shadow. Gary yelled in protest and James could have sworn that the attacker bit his neck.

Allan struck the attacker with the pole he carried and James dashed in, grabbing the stranger by the back of both shoulders in an attempt to wrench him back. He could see the blood that ran from Gary's neck and the stranger went in for another bite and that's when the smell hit him.

It was the same smell from the shed the day before. It was the smell of death.

Again he tried to pull him free and when the attacker finally went with him, Gary fell to the ground with a muffled groan and the stranger went sideways in the opposite direction with a stumble.

Gary clutched at his bleeding neck and his wife ran up to comfort him, tears streaming her face as she knelt and held her husband close. Deep crimson seeped over the front of his shirt and mixed with the rainwater on the ground, making an inky black mixture by the light of the moon.

The stranger struggled to his feet like a drunk, stumbling and letting out a mournful and low-toned moan. James cringed, seeing the man more clearly. The ragged clothes it wore were stained and streaked with mud and his exposed flesh showed heavy signs of rot.

James backed up, holding his hands up to ward it off. "Stay there. We'll help you, but just stay back, ok?"

The only response was another moan.

Allan swore. "Do something with that maniac!"

James nodded absentmindedly, his attention focused on the stranger as he shambled closer. "I said just stay back!"

Again it moved toward him and this time raised its arms to take hold of James, who backed off and drew the gun from the back of his pants and pointed it a the assailant. "I said hold it!"

The attacker took another stumbling step forward and James squeezed the trigger, a loud shot piercing the night. The bullet struck him in the chest and he stumbled back, but stayed on his feet and resumed the approach as if the wound meant nothing.

The crowd looked on horrified with morbid fascination, Bradley exclaiming over the surprised muttering of the group. "You have a gun?"

James ignored the question, restating his demand at the attacker. "Stay back, for fuck's sake!" And squinted as he fired the weapon in his hands again and again. There was a collective scream of surprise coupled with a small explosion, followed by a hollow click and when he opened his eyes the attacker was crumpling to the ground with a jagged hole in the center of its face.

The man looked on disgusted and with shaky legs he took a step back and bent over, throwing up. He'd never shot anyone before and the movies made it look so _clean_. He never thought for a moment he would ever have to and now that he had, he wished he could take it back. His mind replayed the scene over. He threw up again.

Josh's surprised voice tunneled through to him, "Another one?"

James looked up quizzically, still feeling nauseous. "Another?" Then he immediately turned to the shed that they all avoided on their return. Without hesitation, he ran over and stepped inside, Josh following on his heels.

The young man, stunned by what was happening simply added, "I didn't think you'd believe..." then trailed off. James was only half listening and checking the ammo in the gun. He knelt down net to the corpse in the shed and looked the body over, noting the gunshot wound to the head and then down the uncovered arms and stopped. Even with the level of decay, it was clear that there were signs of bite marks; the flesh torn in chunks and the impressions of teeth were visible along the edges.

They looked like _human_ teeth marks.

He thought back to his encounter outside, mentally going over the attacker and was certain he saw similar wounds. There was so much grime that it was hard to be positive, but he was sure enough.

James' face blanched as he thought about it and started to look around the body. Josh chimed in, "What are you looking for?" but James carried on, unhearing. The body had a holster on its belt for the gun and a pouch and with caution he opened it with his free hand, reaching inside. His fingers felt what he was looking for and when he withdrew from the body, he finally responded.

"Bullets."

There were only four more and he quickly opened the chamber on the revolver and dumped the spent casings among the others on the ground and loaded the new bullets into the gun.

The man had likely been attacked then backed himself into the shed, shooting at his attackers from the doorway; reloading at least once. He probably had died quickly from his wounds, but from what James could see and what he had witnessed only moments before, he guessed it had been the same thing. It explained why there were no other bodies around, not because something dragged them off, but because they simply walked away on their own.

Outside in the village square Bradley yelled out "Danny!" and James jumped to his feet and ducked back outside. He wasn't prepared to see Gary, now back up and moving and attacking the man's son with the same conviction that the stranger had.

It all fell into place.

It was the bites!

James rushed over and put all of his weight into a shoulder check and knocked Gary off of the young man, but all too late. The boy was already dead, a dark blotch of blood growing on his torn clothing.

Bradley dashed forward toward his son and James tried to hold him back. "Don't you see? It's an infection! It's spread through the bites!"

The mourning father didn't care. He struggled free from James and went to his son's aid while Gary shuffled back to his feet. James tried to put space between them, but Gary closed in on him too quickly.

Everything happened in a blur as Gary's wife ran forward to help, to stop her husband from his unnatural assault. She stepped between the aged military man and his intended victim who held the gun rigidly before him. The shot rang out and immediately James knew he missed, thankful for not wanting to hit the frantic woman, but having missed, she was then within reach of her husband's needy grip. She cried out as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder, trying to fight back.

James backed off, checking over his shoulder at the father and his son and making sure that he had room to move around.

Josh ran over to Bradley and tried to pull him up, but he flailed his arm up and hit the younger man, causing him to stumble. James ran over to help him and they each grabbed hold of one of the father's arms. "It's too dangerous! C'mon! We can't help him now!"

Bradley wouldn't listen and fought back, trying to stay with his son. "He's alive! His eyes are open! He'll be ok!" He was grief stricken and James knew that no amount of verbal coaxing would snap him out of what he believed.

The two men wrenched hard on Bradley's limbs and the force pulled him up and back, but Danny rolled over lazily, taking hold of his father's ankle. With a hunger-filled moan, he sunk his teeth into the meaty part of his Bradley's leg and forcing out a cry of pain and sending him tripping and falling to the ground. Danny immediately moved over top of him and Josh pulled James out of the way.

"Look!" Josh yelled, pointing to Allan. Allan too had succumbed to the disease and was shambling forward like a drunk. Unseeing, cloudy white eyes and blindly reaching forward for the nearest victim.

James nodded, knowing he didn't have enough ammunition to shoot them all and slid the gun back into his belt. "We have to run for it!"

They each made a run for it, leaving the slow moving forms behind easily, James taking occasional glances over his shoulder.

The two of them started away from the camp, but James suddenly stopped and turned back. "We need the map! Stay there!" He called out as he jogged back. He ran past the congregated mass of ravenous infected and into the hut where Gary and his wife had been, then started shuffling through the meager pile of belongings that had been saved from the crash site.

"James!" Josh called out and James looked up and out of the doorway, seeing the former survivors approaching slowly.

His attention went back to his search and he smiled when he found the journal, tucked neatly into one of the backpacks, along with a container of water and climbing equipment.

He closed the top on it, clipping it shut and slung it over his shoulder.

Outside Josh called to him again and when he looked up he saw that the group of infected were now within a meter of the doorway.

"Shit," He muttered and ran outside, narrowly missing the reaching grasp of one of them as he ducked to the side, passing between two others. He grunted as he dodged them and hurried to put distance him and their pitiful moans, pointing Josh into the jungle. "Go! Just go!"


	5. Chapter 5

_Here's the next instalment for your reading pleasure. Please Review if you can!_

_Thanks!_

5

KinCaid briskly descended the steep staircase to the maintenance deck of the ship, dimly lit by two light bulbs that swayed ominously in the narrow corridor. He made one check over his shoulder as he walked otherwise his outward attitude was one of a carefree nature. On the inside, however was another story.

He wasn't sure what he thought about the girl and after seeing the corpse in the recreation area on the upper deck he suspected she might have been over stressed. There had been bloody boot prints all over the place and it was clear from where they led, that it was Kirsten's handy work.

He sighed.

He had tried that door when he came on board, but something had blocked the way. In a round about way, he was thankful to have entered where he did, through the hatch on the maintenance level at the bow of the boat, but he was still puzzled as to why she mutilated the dead man.

Could she have known him? Could he have been the reason why she was out here in the middle of nowhere in the Amazon without transport?

He shook his head. There was no use in trying to figure it out. It didn't change anything and the two of them regardless would have to help each other. Especially if he wanted to complete his mission and KinCaid was determined to do so.

He took a quick glance around, suddenly aware of a faint moaning from the engine room and after a second's thought, realized it was one area he hadn't checked on that level when he had boarded. Having seen the lights out and with no response from the wall switches, he had gone directly up to the bridge. When there hadn't been a sign of anyone left on the ship, he had returned below deck to the electrical room to get to work.

Now he was left bothered. Was there still someone else onboard?

His thoughts drifted as he focused on the pleading sounds and approached the engine room door with nervous apprehension. He chided himself for not having done a thorough search of the ship before claiming it as abandoned and tentatively reached for the latch. The hallway was dimly lit by the grime-encrusted light bulb that hung directly overhead, casting an otherworldly glow over the cramped space.

Nothing about the situation helped to put his mind at ease.

"The engine's dead." Came Kirsten's concerned voice, causing KinCaid to visibly jump and spin to face her, his eyes wide.

"Do you hear that?" He asked, nodding toward the door and overruling her previous statement.

Kirsten leaned in, puzzled by his request and tried to listen and straightened up immediately after. "Who's in there?"

KinCaid shook his head. "No idea. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't goin' crazy and hearin' things, I guess."

The woman took a step back and looked KinCaid over, then turned her attention back to the door. "What should we do? Do you think it's the crew?" Her voice took on a conspiratorial tone, coming out as barely more than a whisper. As she heard the moans again, her mind flashed images of the body upstairs, coming to life and attacking her.

She shuddered.

KinCaid noticed her apprehension and motioned at the door, reaching in underneath his vest and withdrawing a 9mm handgun that had been tucked away in a holster.

Kirsten eyed the weapon nervously then shot a glance back up at him. She wanted to question him about it, but instead kept her mouth shut and looked back at the door.

The whole situation was starting to feel worse.

KinCaid took a deep breath and opened the door with a screech, the engine room interior lit only as far as the hallway lights would allow. Cautiously he reached inside with his left hand and felt around the walls, looking for a switch and took a couple steps into the room.

The moans were louder with the door open and the yearning sound to it made the man feel uneasy over the cold and stale smell that permeated the area. His fingers brushed over the knob on the wall and he flipped the switch with a heavy snap.

Nothing happened.

KinCaid swore under his breath. "Musta been a power surge. Blown the fuse, or knocked out the light in there." He didn't even look at Kirsten to see her nod.

She shuffled nervously on her feet and thought back to the lantern she left in the Captain's quarters upstairs.

"I have an idea."

Before KinCaid could even turn to ask her what she'd meant, she was already off and disappeared from view. He spent only a moment watching after her, before looking back into the deep black void of the engine room.

Something shuffled within and he raised the weapon, holding it tightly with both hands and peering down the smooth grey metal of the barrel. The moaning was louder and definitely sounded human.

He stared intently forward, trying to pinpoint it, lost in concentration, but aware of it just ahead in the inky darkness.

Something came at him silently from the left, dipping into the soft light from the hallway and reaching for him with gnarled fingers.

He stepped out of the way, the scabby hands only brushing his arm, but the motion put KinCaid deeper into the room and into blackness. The staggering form of the crewman was backlit by the hallway light, heavily silhouetted, but he could still make out faint details in the face and clothing. It was enough to tell that something was horribly wrong.

The figure opened its lipless mouth with a crack and let out a wail, similar to what was resounding in the blackness over KinCaid's shoulder. The noises were all closing in on him and he fired the weapon with an echoing bang.

He could see the crewman shudder with the impact to his shoulder, but it didn't slow or waiver. KinCaid fired again, struggling to aim in the darkness, momentarily blinded by the muzzle flashes and the crewman's head popped with a wet crunch. There was a spray of deep crimson into the hall that spattered the far wall and KinCaid dashed forward just as he felt another presence behind him and before the dead crewman had even crumpled to the floor. He leaped over the corpse into the light and spun, seeing another come forward at him.

The smell was enough to turn his stomach and in the light he could see it clearly. It was one of the crew, or used to be; and his clothing was torn and soaked in blood. Bone protruded from different parts of its exposed and withered flesh, leaving it looking mummified with a red tinge to its skin.

KinCaid gagged as he backpedaled into the wall and leveled his gun again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kirsten dash back into view just as he pulled the trigger, dispatching the walking corpse that shambled toward him. It collapsed on top of its compatriot in a growing puddle of black-red ooze.

"Holy shit!" KinCaid was breathing hard.

Kirsten jogged up along side him and looked into the engine room, then down at the pair of bodies on the floor, a lantern held tightly with one hand. "What are they?" She questioned, her voice quivering.

KinCaid sighed. "Pretty damn obvious what they are." He thought a moment before continuing, then turned to face the woman who stood with him. "Was this what happened upstairs too?"

At first she looked at him confused, but when her mind zeroed in on the thing in the common room upstairs, she finally gave a nod. "Yeah. It looked dead, but it came at me."

The man ran a hand through his hair. "Looked dead? These people have been here for years. They don' just _look_ dead. They _are_ dead."

The concept was ridiculous. People just didn't get up after dying and Kirsten laughed nervously. "Like in the movies? Rising from their graves to attack the living?" She shook her head. "No. There's got to be an explanation."

More moaning interrupted their debate and both of them looked over at the open door and the darkness beyond. KinCaid cleared his throat, cutting through the stillness like a hot knife through butter and glancing quickly down at the lamp. "We'll move in together. I'll cover you."

Kirsten cut him off. "No way in hell am I stepping foot in there." Her face was ghostly white and she shook her head slowly from side to side.

KinCaid grimaced. "If we want a chance of getting' out of here, we gotta go in there first."

She didn't like it at all, but he was right and she looked down at the lantern thoughtfully. With a sigh she finally gave a quick nod and took a step forward, moving over top of the silenced corpses at their feet and then proceeded into the engine room.

KinCaid followed immediately behind, looking right and left as the lantern gave off a soft and almost warming glow. Shadows danced at the edge of his perception and they slowly pressed forward amongst the machinery.

Another form rounded a bend just up ahead and KinCaid trained his weapon and fired, the sudden flash momentarily illuminating the whole area. The form fell to the ground with a thud.

The duo stalked forward, still aware of the ongoing murmur of more and neither of them really sure of what they were looking for. When they reached the end of the aisle, it hooked left and they stepped over the body and followed the corridor.

The moaning was distinctly louder and the cause of it lunged into view to Kirsten's right, having been hiding in the shadows. She yelped in surprise as it tried to grab her and she backed into KinCaid while he tried to aim, the weapon firing and ricocheting off of a metal surface out of sight.

Kirsten pushed forward and sent the undead crewman off balance, crashing to the ground, the lantern in her hand swinging wildly.

KinCaid stepped past her and aimed at the corpse on the ground as it crawled forward, squeezing off another round. The crewman's head shattered with the bullet's impact and the dark fluids from its skull blanketed the ground at their feet like a living shadow.

Both of them were panting in the sudden stillness of the room.

The only sounds they could hear were the combined beating of their hearts.

Kirsten looked up at the man, then over to something that caught her attention. It was a sign above what appeared to be a breaker or lever. She held the lantern up to eye level, reading off the words in her head.

_Emergency restart._

With a grin she reached for the lever and threw the switch, a green light warming to life just next to it. Somewhere in the room a steady hum was building and both of them let out quiet sighs of relief.

KinCaid nudged the woman's shoulder and when she turned to face him, he motioned quietly for them to leave. He didn't want to speak and risk more of the zombies hearing him and somehow he knew it was exactly what she was thinking as well.


End file.
